


Prognosis

by A_Farnese



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Cancer, M/M, Merthur - Freeform, Modern AU, Sick!Merlin, Sickfic, merlin modern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-15 23:18:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Farnese/pseuds/A_Farnese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything should have been happily ever after for Arthur and Merlin, but then a troubling diagnosis is followed by a dim prognosis and suddenly nothing is certain anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. February

**Author's Note:**

> Teen+ rating for mild sensuality and a little bit of language.
> 
> Disclaimer: 'Merlin' and its characters are not mine. No money is being made from this.

" _I'm scared."_

They were strange words coming from Merlin, who was never, ever afraid. Not on the night they met, when he had pulled Arthur out of the path of a wayward Audi. He'd laughed at that, and Arthur, shaking from an adrenaline rush, had immediately been smitten by that smile and invited him out for a "thank you for saving my life" kind of drink. That had been three years ago, and in all that time Merlin had never admitted to being afraid of anything. Not when their canoe capsized that time in France, or when Arthur's car had spun a full 360 after they hit a patch of ice on the M4 during a trip to see Merlin's mother in Cardiff last winter.

It was a new thing, this fear, opening up a great yawning chasm of uncertainty before them and introducing new words into their everyday vocabulary, like "cancer", "chemotherapy", and "prognosis". Words they had heard of, but never thought would be a part of their lives. Yet now they were.

Merlin had hardly been sick in the time that Arthur had known him. Barely a sniffle, his only headaches coming from hangovers when Merlin had maybe a bit too much to drink. Then a Christmastime bout of the flu lengthened into January, and Arthur badgered Merlin about it until he finally went to the doctor and came home with some antibiotics. When Merlin still wasn't feeling well by mid-February, the doctor ordered a wider battery of tests. Then she referred them to someone else. An oncologist.  _"Dr. Gaius Leach. He's the best. I've made an appointment for you to see him on Tuesday to discuss your options."_

Between that Friday and Tuesday, neither Merlin nor Arthur really slept. Or ate. Or did much of anything except wander from one half-completed task to the other in search of some distraction from the waiting and the worrying until they met the oncologist at exactly 9:30 that morning. Thank god for Gaius. He'd broken the full scale of the news in a straightforward fashion, but gently, and Arthur couldn't imagine how a person could so calmly tell a previously healthy young man that he might not live to see his twenty-fifth birthday. He couldn't understand how Merlin was taking it so well until they got home. When he finished making dinner that night he'd gone to get Merlin and found him curled up on the bed, sobbing.

"It's not fair. It's not fair," he kept repeating.

"No," Arthur agreed, "it's not fair at all."

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and hanging on for dear life until the food got cold and Merlin finally ran out of tears, each wondering why the certainties in their lives had turned into a series of indefinite maybes.

They spent the next week and a half preparing for the first course of chemo. They told their family and friends and were overwhelmed by the support they unconditionally received. Arthur bought the things it seemed like they might need, while Merlin gave up on his hair the night before and pulled out the clippers. Without the unruly tangle, Merlin's eyes looked even wider, and his ears seemed to stick out more.

"That doesn't look so bad," Arthur had said.

"Says you. My head's cold."

"That's why Gwen bought you this stylish hat." Arthur had plopped the blue wool beanie onto Merlin's head and pulled it down over his forehead. "See. You'll look normal."

"I won't have any eyebrows."

"And I'll love you even when you don't have eyebrows." Arthur spun him about and tipped him over onto the bed before kneeling down to pull Merlin's shoes off his feet, then his socks. He ran his hands up the length of Merlin's body, pulled the t-shirt over his head, and nuzzled Merlin's throat, pressing kisses along all the sensitive spots on his chest until Merlin gasped with pleasure.

He laughed. It was a low, rumbly sound in the back of his throat cut short by a sharp intake of breath as Arthur pressed a hand to the front of his jeans. "What are you doing?"

"Taking advantage of you. Unless you object." Arthur grinned as he undid the button and pulled the zipper down, tooth by tooth.

"No. Just curious." Merlin lay back, twined his fingers into Arthur's hair, and for a while neither of them needed to say anything at all.

Later, when they were spent and curled up together under the covers watching the clock tick away the minutes until tomorrow morning, when chemo started, and the reality of Merlin's illness would truly set in, Merlin said it: "I'm scared."

Arthur pulled Merlin just a little bit tighter against himself, running a hand over the newly shaven stubble on Merlin's scalp. He let the words hang between them for a moment, then kissed him. If Merlin was brave enough to admit that he was afraid, then Arthur could do it, too. "So am I."


	2. April

Waking up at all the dark hours of the morning was a familiar habit by now. If it wasn’t because Merlin was flinging himself across the room to get to the toilet before his stomach expelled whatever bit of food he’d managed to eat, it was because Arthur woke himself up with worry. There were some nights he hardly slept at all, and others where he was so exhausted he could sleep through almost anything.

Tonight must have been the latter of the two. The bed next to him was cold, the blankets flipped back into a hasty tangle. A strip of light shone from under the bathroom door. Arthur pushed himself upright and rubbed his eyes. “Merlin?”

There was a muffled sound from beyond the door, like soft coughing. Or retching. Arthur padded across the carpet and quietly opened the door. “You all right?”

“Still alive,” Merlin said, his voice barely audible. He was kneeling in front of the toilet, his elbows resting on either side of bowl with his head buried in his hands. His breath stuttered, a now familiar pattern of ‘swallow-sharp inhalation-shaky exhalation’. Sometimes his shoulders would jerk, abdominal muscles would clench, and he’d throw up again. Other times, he’d dry heave for forty-five minutes and collapse against the wall, too tired to stumble back to bed.

“Want some of the blue stuff?” he asked. Merlin nodded. Arthur hauled himself up and wound his way to the kitchen to grab a bottle of sports drink out of the cabinet. They had a whole shelf full of the stuff. The blue variety seemed to be the one that Merlin kept down the best, and he could kind of taste it. Arthur grabbed one and uncapped it on his way back to the bathroom. Merlin hadn’t moved. “Here.” Arthur eased Merlin away from the bowl and pressed the bottle into his shaking hands.

Merlin sipped at it while Arthur flushed the sick away and cleaned the bowl off with the disinfectant wipes that had become a staple in the Pendragon/Emrys household. It was sort of a joke that the toilet had never been so clean before. “Sorry.” Merlin cleared his throat and brushed a hand over his watering eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arthur gave him a tight smile as he tossed the rags into the bin. “Think you’re good?”

“Maybe. Give me a bit?”

“Yeah. Turn ‘round a little?” He folded himself onto the floor as Merlin shifted about so Arthur could sit behind him. He pulled Merlin against himself and set about massaging the other man’s temples, slowly working his way back and over the too-smooth scalp and down his neck and along his shoulders, motions more akin to stroking a cat than a real massage. But anything heavier seemed to hurt more than it helped.

Eventually Merlin sighed and leaned into Arthur, fidgeting like a six-year old until he settled his bony self into something resembling comfortable. His long fingers clung to the neck of the bottle like a lifeline. “I hate this,” he said. The words were almost lost against Arthur’s chest.

Arthur wrapped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “I know,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t the drink or the fact that they were sitting on the bathroom floor Merlin was talking about. It was what their lives had become over the past two months. It was the fact that Merlin, once so capable and confident, could hardly walk across the flat, keep food down, or stay awake for more than a few hours at a time. It was the hair loss and the lost weight, and all the other effects that went along with chemo. “We’ll get through it all, okay?”

Merlin nodded. He moved to put the cap back on the sports drink. It took three tries with his newly clumsy fingers. It was all the chemo’s fault, but that didn’t stop Arthur from wanting to take the bottle from Merlin and close it himself. He never would, though. Merlin had so little of his dignity left. Arthur couldn’t steal the rest of it. “Ready to go back to bed?” he asked.

“Yeah. Those pills don’t seem to be working very well.” Merlin shuddered and latched onto the edge of the counter to lever himself up. In the harsh light, the shadows under his eyes looked like bruises and his ribs stood out in sharp relief.

“You only got them yesterday,” Arthur said. “Gaius said they might take a few days to really start working.

Merlin made an unconvinced sound and edged past Arthur to go back into the darkened bedroom. Arthur waited until he heard the rustling of blankets before he glanced around the bathroom one more time to check for stray trash or vomit. It was clean, though. He’d gotten it all the first time. He flipped off the light and set the drink on the nightstand.

Arthur perched on the side of the bed and brushed his fingertips over Merlin’s cheek. “Do you want me to stay in here with you tonight?” Sometimes the answer was ‘no’. Their shared body heat was too much for Merlin to handle. On those nights, Arthur slept on the couch.

Spidery fingers wrapped around Arthur’s. “Yeah,” Merlin whispered. “I don’t like being alone.”

“Neither do I.” Arthur crawled into bed and wrapped himself around Merlin’s diminished body. He pressed a soft kiss against Merlin’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you, too,” Merlin sighed, his voice hushed as he drifted off to sleep.

As he stared into the dark and waited for his uneasy dreams, Arthur tried to pretend that the moisture in his eyes wasn’t tears.

 

 


	3. June

Morgana threw a ‘just because’ party in June and invited the entire circle of friends. Except for Arthur and Merlin, whose attendance was a requirement, not a request. So Arthur packed up the car, and he and Merlin traveled the familiar route to his half-sister’s house in the Cotswolds where they were promptly assaulted by happiness and forbidden to do anything resembling work. Percival parked himself next to Arthur and put a meaty hand on his shoulder if Arthur so much as flinched in the direction of of a chore or duty, while the normally irrepressible Gwaine set about fetching whatever thing it was that Arthur might want.

For his own part, Merlin spent the day alternating between dozing on the couch and tottering into the kitchen for a half-dozen refills of ginger tea and whatever food he could stomach. Gwen and Morgana were happy to spoil him, just like every other day. Whenever Arthur couldn’t get away from work, one or the other of the girls would be at Merlin’s side, and while the guys-- especially Lance-- were always willing to lend a hand, Morgana and Gwen were by far the brightest angels in Arthur’s world right now.

“I thought Leon was going to come tonight. Have you heard from him?” Gwen asked as she set a basket of laundry down on the living room floor and proceeded to start sorting the clothes. They were Arthur’s clothes.

“He came down with a cold the other day. Said he didn’t want to risk giving it to Merlin, so he bowed out this morning,” Arthur said. He would have made a move to sort the clothes himself-- he didn’t really want Gwen to fold his underwear, after all-- but Percival and Gwaine were still keeping their watch, and Merlin was asleep with his head on Arthur’s lap. If it was a choice between waking Merlin up and letting Gwen deal with his boxers, he’d let Merlin sleep every time. It didn’t mean he couldn’t complain about it. “I still can’t believe you broke into my house and stole my laundry.”

“We didn’t break in. You gave us a key.” Lance smiled at his wife and partner in crime. “And we didn’t steal your laundry. It’s right here. You’ll have it all back as soon as we’re done.”

“And if we didn’t truly want to help, Arthur, we wouldn’t have done all this in the first place. So give it up and find some way to accept that your friends are going to help you, alright?” Gwen made a threatening gesture, but with one of Merlin’s beanies in her hand, it just looked comical.

“All right, then.” Arthur threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender, wincing when the movement elicited an unhappy noise from Merlin, who shifted and made a face but settled back without waking.

“Is he out for the night?” Percival asked.

“I think so.” Arthur ran a gentle hand down Merlin’s arm, but he didn’t respond.

“You should take him into the guest room, Perce,” Morgana called from the kitchen. “He’ll be more comfortable there. And I want to talk to my little brother anyway. Give Percival a hand, will you Gwaine?”

Gwaine rolled his eyes and flipped his hair away from his face. “Yes, M’Lady. Glad to be of service.” He exchanged an exasperated look with Percival before moving to do what he was told. Arthur finally got to do some work, helping to shift Merlin’s weight just enough for Percival to gather him up like a little child and carry him into the guest bedroom.

Arthur watched them go, then rubbed his eyes and rolled to his feet. “You summoned me?”

Morgana laughed. “I did, yes. Now sit down and eat this,” she shoved a bowl of ice cream across the counter to him. Vanilla, with plenty of chocolate syrup and sprinkles. A bottle of beer-- his fifth, no, _sixth_ \-- of the night followed the bowl. “How are you doing, Arthur? I mean it. Don’t try to dance around the subject. How are you?”

“I’m-” he stopped before ‘fine’ fell off his lips, because he saw the shadows under his eyes every time he looked in the mirror and he knew without being told that he’d aged five years in four months. “I’m tired, Morgana. I’m so fucking tired. There are days like today when everything seems okay, like he’s beating this thing and everything’s going to be fine. But there are more days where he can barely stand up or think straight, and I go to bed those nights terrified that I’ll wake up in the morning and he’ll have-” His voice threatened to break, and he hastily wiped his eyes. Morgana pretended not to notice.

“Has the prognosis changed, then?” she asked softly.

Arthur shrugged and poked at his ice cream until he found his voice again. “Not really. They did some more scans on Wednesday. The cancer’s slowed down a bit, but it’s still growing. Next course of chemo starts in a week, and after that they’ll do the scans again and we’ll see. Gaius said that if it’s still growing at this rate by the beginning of September, we might have to look into palliative care or hospice-” he broke off again and downed half his beer in one go. The others were quietly pretending they weren’t listening in, and Arthur had to admit that he was glad they weren’t offering platitudes.

Morgana stepped around the bar, took the bottle from his loose grasp, and wrapped her brother in a tight hug. He hugged her back like he was holding on for dear life, and when they finally pulled apart Arthur gave her a watery smile. “Go to bed,” she told him. “And don’t bother setting any alarms in the morning. Just sleep in for once, okay?”

“Okay.” Arthur gave her a crooked grin as he slipped off the bar stool and headed for the guest room where Merlin was already asleep, and neither one of them would ever admit what the look in her eyes had really told him: _“Go and hold him while you still can.”_

 

 

 


	4. August

“What are you doing?” Arthur tossed his suit jacket aside and loosened his tie as he walked in the door, glad for the air conditioning that turned the sultry summer air into a mere memory.

“Oh, we’ve just been shopping.” Merlin looked up from the iPad that he and Gwen were sharing and gave Arthur a brilliant smile. He couldn’t help but smile back. It felt like ages since Merlin had looked so healthy, so happy. The most recent scans showed that the cancer hadn’t grown, was maybe shrinking, and even Gaius had sounded optimistic at their last appointment.

“What are you shopping for?” he asked as he leaned over to kiss Merlin on the cheek. He grabbed Arthur’s tie and tilted his head, turning a chaste ‘hello’ kiss into something far warmer and more lingering.

“Nothing much,” Merlin said when he finally let go of Arthur. “Just rings.”

“Rings?” Arthur raised an eyebrow and sat down after Merlin and Gwen had shifted over to make room.

“Yes, rings.” Gwen smiled.

“Why do I have the feeling everyone else knows what’s going on except me?” Arthur tried to catch a glance of the screen, but it was tilted away and revealed nothing more than the reflection of the windows. Merlin snuggled up against him and pulled the iPad over so Arthur could see it. Rings, indeed. His and his wedding bands, to be precise. “What’s this all about?”

“It’s just what it looks like. We’ve been together, what, almost four years now?” Merlin wound Arthur’s tie between his fingers, the bright red making a stark contrast against his pale skin. “I keep waiting, and there’s been nothing from you on the subject, so Gwen and I got to talking, and we agreed.”

“Agreed about…?” He looked over to Gwen, but she refused to say anything. She just exchanged a meaningful glance with Merlin and held her tongue.

“You’re being particularly dense today,” Merlin chuckled and tapped Arthur on the forehead. “We decided that if I don’t bring up the subject of marriage, it’s never going to get brought up at all, what with you being so worried about everything all the time. So what do you say? Do you want to get married?” The smile spread wider across Merlin’s face, but deep in his eyes, there was the hint of worry, as if he were afraid of Arthur’s answer.

“As if I could ever say no to you,” he said. Merlin’s smile shone like a thousand suns, and he wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck and kissed him longer and more deeply than he had the first time.

"When, then?" Merlin asked when they parted at last. “I always thought I’d like a springtime wedding."

Arthur almost agreed, almost said yes, because what would be better than a wedding when the world was renewing itself, making a fresh start? Then a schoolyard voice whispered in his head to “ _gather ye rosebuds while ye may”_ , and he had to listen because under the veneer of health the shadow of Merlin’s cancer still lurked, and he stopped himself from saying, ' _but you might not have until springtime, love'._

"How about an autumn wedding?" He said instead. Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Well, if we're going to do this, we may as well get it done. What do we need, anyway? Hire a vicar, fill out some paperwork, find a couple of witnesses. We can borrow Morgana’s house for the day, make a Facebook event, send out some formal invites for the older generation, get a cake from that bakery you like in Notting Hill. Or we could just elope tomorrow and be done with it." Merlin’s skeptical look turned amused, and by the end of Arthur’s little speech, he was outright laughing, a joyful sound that trailed off into coughing as he fought to catch his breath.

Arthur winced. "Sorry. You alright?"

“Yeah,” Merlin finally managed. “I’m fine. Just can’t picture you eloping. Ever. You’re not exactly Mr. Spontaneous. Besides. I think my mum would kill me if I did that, me being an only child and all. She wants to be the mother at the wedding and rule the day. Morgana would probably kill you, too.” He slid the iPad back over to Gwen and reached for his empty tea mug. “I’m going to go make some tea. Do you want some tea?”

“No, I’m fine.” Arthur took his hand to help him up, painfully aware of how thin his fingers had become, and of how weak his hands were. And yet, Merlin was grinning so broadly it seemed like his face might crack in half. “What are you smiling about?”

“We're getting married. What’s not to smile about? You pick a date. My schedule’s open these days,” Merlin said as he shuffled toward the kitchen.

The smile faded from Arthur’s face. He waited until Merlin disappeared into the other room before turning to Gwen. “Has he been like this all day?”

“Yes.” Gwen fidgeted with the iPad, opening up the calendar app before she handed it to him. “Well, ever since he finally decided to ask you, and once he’d made up his mind he was so anxious. Thought you might say no, or that you might worry about his being too sick to go through with it. And you’re worried that he is, aren’t you?” She lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry far.

“I- yeah. I know he’s been feeling better, but… I don’t know.” Arthur bit his lip and flipped the calendar to September. “I want to believe that we might be past the worst of this. He’s been feeling better the past few weeks-- you’ve seen that yourself.”

“I have,” Gwen agreed. “But it’s hard to believe the worst is over when the doctors have been telling you for months how bad things are?” Arthur nodded. “I can see my way to that. But you shouldn’t put off your life because things might get worse. Marry him. Do it soon. And if.... Well, if that happens, he’ll know without a doubt how much you love him.”

“You’re right, of course.” He gave her a shaky smile. “We should have done this sooner, I suppose. I should have asked him back in February and had this all done with by now.”

“Yes, you should have. But you’re doing it now, so set aside your regrets and pick a date, all right?” Gwen nodded at the iPad with its September calendar page. “We’ll get everything else figured out this weekend.”

Arthur threw her a mock salute. “Yes, Ma’am. What do you think about the twentieth of September, Merlin?”

Merlin shrugged his narrow shoulders as he stepped back into the living room, somehow managing not to spill his tea with the motion. “Three days after my birthday? Sounds good to me. Think we’ll be able to get all the official stuff done in three weeks? Find a venue and all that?” He shuffled back to the couch, handing his tea off to Gwen so he could curl up next to Arthur.

“If we can’t in the next week, I’m sure we can see if Morgana can call in a favor or two. I think half the people of England owe her something,” Gwen said as she handed the mug back.

“Well, then,” Arthur said, “if we get Morgana involved, then mountains will get moved and wars will end so her special plans aren’t interrupted.” Merlin chuckled and nestled closer, bringing up a couple of web pages full of wedding bands. Arthur wrapped an arm around him. “Are you still happy, then?” he whispered.

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I’ve never been happier.”

 

 


	5. September

Arthur missed the first three frantic phone calls. He had been in a 'must not be missed' kind of meeting at work and had to leave the phone at his desk, because even the boss had to leave the mobile behind during these meetings. Arthur couldn’t violate the rules that he had made, after all.

Even if Merlin was spending his birthday in the hospital.

He’d developed a cold at the end of August, and no amount of tea or chicken noodle soup could stop it from turning into bronchitis or blooming into a full-blown case of pneumonia after that. A late night coughing fit that wouldn’t stop earned Merlin a trip in an ambulance three days earlier, and he’d been stuck in hospital ever since.

They’d quietly postponed the wedding. It wasn’t difficult to put it off a week. The guest list was already small, and most of them lived in London anyway. Merlin’s mother, Hunith, made the journey from Cardiff every chance she got, as did Morgana. The paperwork was filed and arrangements made with the vicar. All they needed was for Merlin to be healthy enough to say the vows. That was all.

Then Arthur got back to his desk, noticed the flashing message alerts, and got the fourth call just as he was reaching to pick up the phone. He remembered about a tenth of what Morgana said, and none of what he told her. He hardly recalled how he fled the office, shouting a barely coherent excuse to Leon as he went, with the words “respiratory distress” and “intensive care” ringing in his ears.

He might have driven to the hospital, or maybe he teleported. Arthur didn’t recall the journey any more than the phone conversation. But suddenly he was there, and so were Morgana and Hunith. He wrapped Hunith in a hug and, because she was strong and holding back her tears, Arthur decided that he could, too. “What happened?”

“Everything seemed fine,” Morgana said. “We were in his room, just watching telly. Merlin was asleep. Then it was like he couldn’t breathe, and he started making this horrible sound and all the alarms were going off. I heard the doctor say something about taking him to the ICU, and that was the last we heard. I don’t know what happened. He seemed alright this morning.” Moisture was gathering in Morgana’s eyes, and that was nearly as frightening as everything else.

“Emrys?” said a quiet voice behind them.

Hunith spun about. “That’s me. I’m Merlin’s mother. What’s happened?”

A dark eyed doctor approached them, his voice lilting with a faint Hindi accent. “My name is Doctor Chaudhry, Ma'am. I'm in charge of your son's care." He reached out to shake Hunith’s hand. She returned the gesture half-heartedly. "Merlin is suffering complications from the pneumonia. Fluid has built up around his lungs and become infected, causing further respiratory problems." He tugged at the edge of his lab coat like he was anxious to get on with things. Or maybe he was just young and nervous. Arthur couldn’t tell. "We inserted a chest tube to drain the fluid, but we feel that placing him onto a ventilator to further aid his breathing is the best course of action.” There was a hesitance in the doctor’s manner, and an uncertainty in his eyes.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Hunith asked.

The doctor sighed. “Your son is gravely ill, Ma’am. Between the cancer, the pneumonia, and the new complications, there's a distinct possibility that nothing we can do will save him.” His pronouncement hit them like a punch to the gut they had been expecting, but hadn't fully braced for.

Hunith shuddered. Arthur’s grip tightened on her shoulders even as his knees threatened to buckle. Then she took a deep breath and stood straight. “Is he awake? Right now, is he awake?”

“Yes, Ma’am. We gave him a local anaesthetic for the chest tube. He’s resting comfortably for now, but we’ll need to put him under for the ventilator. We need your permission to begin the process,” Chaudhry said.

“They were supposed to get married on Saturday,” Hunith said faintly, her eyes distant. “Can it wait?”

“Ma’am?” The doctor looked confused, and so did Arthur.

“How long can you wait to put him on the ventilator?”

“For his own sake, the sooner we do it, the better. Why do you want to wait?” Chaudhry asked.

“They were supposed to get married on Saturday, Doctor. And it’s my son’s birthday. He hasn’t had a chance to see his fiance today." Hunith glanced up at Arthur. Despite the sheen of tears in her eyes, her voice was steady. “If you say he may not survive this then I want Merlin to see Arthur. And have his wedding day.” Hunith’s voice broke then, but the resolve didn’t leave her eyes.

“The paperwork’s filed,” Morgana chimed in when the doctor hesitated. “And I’ll arrange everything else myself. I’ll call in the bloody archbishop of Canterbury if I need to. Now, how long can he wait?”  Arthur had been on the receiving end of this side of Morgana’s temper before. He had melted in the face of it, and the doctor’s reaction was no different.

“We can give him a breathing treatment to help, but it’s a stopgap measure. I’ll give you two hours. Any longer than that will diminish his chances further.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Can we see him now?” Morgana pulled out her smart phone and started dialing.

“Yes,” the doctor said, “though he’s a little groggy. And you can’t use that in here,” he said, gesturing to her phone.

“Fine, then. Go do whatever you need to do,” Morgana dismissed Chaudhry like he was a servant, then turned to Arthur and Hunith. “Get in there. I’ll get everything arranged.” She smiled at Arthur, then dismissed him, too, as she walked away down the hall.

“Shall we, then?” Arthur did his best to smile at Hunith, but she shrugged him off and nudged him toward Merlin’s room.

“I’ve spent all day with him. Take this time for the two of you.”

Arthur swallowed back the butterflies in his stomach and wiped his eyes. “Thank you,” he told Hunith before slipping into the room. It felt sterile, even with the flowers and stuffed toys everyone had brought. It would have been peacefully quiet, if it weren’t for the quiet beeping of the monitors, though none of it seemed to bother Merlin. Arthur thought he was asleep at first, but Merlin’s eyes fluttered open when Arthur took his hand. “Hey. Happy birthday.”

Merlin smiled. “Thanks. Made it to... twenty-five after all,” he rasped, his breath coming in short, strained gasps. “Remember when Gaius… said I probably wouldn’t?”  

“Yeah, I remember.” Arthur brushed his fingertips along Merlin’s cheek, being careful not to dislodge the nasal cannula feeding him oxygen. His skin had a faintly bluish cast, and his fingernails were dusky. Arthur tried to ignore the chest tube snaking out from under the covers and the IV line in his arm. “They want to put you on a ventilator to help you breathe, love. They’ll have to knock you out for it, but you’ll get to sleep through the whole thing.” And maybe never wake up…

“And miss my birthday…” Merlin grimaced. His fingers twitched against Arthur’s.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry… We were supposed to get married… Didn’t mean to end up here instead,” Merlin breathed.

“It’s not your fault. Besides. We could do it this afternoon. Get married, I mean. Your mother convinced them to wait on the ventilator for a while, and Morgana’s making the arrangements.” Arthur’s smile was unforced this time, and genuine. "We could do it right now, if you want."

“I do,” Merlin grinned weakly. His dry laugh turned into a cough that left him gasping for breath. He lay quietly for a while, then opened his eyes and looked back up at Arthur. “At least you won’t… forget our anniversary… since it’ll be my birthday, too…. Best present ever.”

“Yeah,” Arthur tried to laugh, but couldn’t. He kissed Merlin’s fingers instead. The skin felt papery under his lips. “It is a good present, isn’t it?”

“The best,” Merlin repeated. His eyes closed.

The doctor came in with a couple of nurses and shooed him away while they gave Merlin the breathing treatment, but Arthur was back at the bedside the instant they left, keeping watch while Merlin slept.

And Morgana, bless her, arranged a wedding in forty-five minutes, vicar, cake, and all. Leon arrived straight from work, still in his business suit. Percival and Gwaine showed up minutes later, then Gwen and her brother Elyan came in with the cake in hand. It had been meant for Merlin’s birthday, but it would serve its new purpose well enough. Lance appeared with the wedding rings, having stopped by Arthur’s flat to pick them up. Morgana and Hunith escorted a frazzled vicar in, and though they had to ignore the doctor and his team lurking in the background, there was a wedding. It was hastily thrown together, and the most casual affair that Arthur had ever seen, but it was a wedding all the same.

Arthur’s voice broke when he said, ‘til death do us part’.

Merlin’s ring was too big for his finger. The golden band kept threatening to fall off and disappear, but Gwaine took the silver chain from around his own neck and pocketed his mementos to secure the golden band at Merlin’s throat. Merlin weakly folded the fingers of his left hand around the ring and wouldn’t let it go.

“You brought cake, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” Arthur said, “there’s cake. I think you can get away with a little taste.” He broke off a bit of the chocolate confection. Merlin caught his hand, took some of the frosting on his own fingertips, and with an impish little grin, swiped it across Arthur’s nose. Then he tugged on Arthur’s tie, and their first kiss as newlyweds tasted of sugar. Arthur let himself forget that Merlin’s lips were dry and cracking.

And then their two hours ran out. Their friends filed out one by one, making an odd sort of reception line with each of them pretending that they might not be saying good-bye forever. Then Arthur was the only one left. Doctor Chaudhry gave him a pointed look, but Arthur refused to move. “At least let me stay until he’s asleep. I don’t want him to face this alone. If this is all the time we have...” Arthur swallowed to keep his voice from breaking. Then Chaudhry relented.

“Just stay up there,” he gestured toward the head of the bed. “And only until he’s asleep. We’ll be moving him afterward.”

“Thank you.” Arthur moved the chair up and took Merlin’s hand again. He brushed his fingers along Merlin’s cheek again, drinking in every last detail of his face. The pale skin, the curve of his lips, and the deep, deep blue of his eyes. He wanted to remember. He had to remember, in case this was the last time... “Are you ready, love? They’re about to start.”

“You’ll be here… when I wake up?” Merlin asked.

“Yes, love. When you go to sleep, and when you wake up. I’d never leave you.”

Merlin smiled when the nurse put the mask over his mouth and nose, was still smiling, still looking back at Arthur when the doctor started counting down from one hundred. Then his eyes closed, his face went slack, and the nurses ushered Arthur away from the bed and into the hall. The sound of the closing door seemed as final as the buzz of a flatline.

Arthur felt suddenly alone and defeated, like he’d broken a promise to Merlin. The wedding band was heavy on his finger.

“Arthur?” Hunith touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

“No, I-” he cleared his throat and tried to start over. “How long-? I- What do I do now? I don’t know what to do.”

“They’re not going to let us see him for a while,” Hunith said. “You should go home for a bit. Take a shower, find a change of clothes. Maybe bring me some clothes, too.” Arthur wondered how she could take this all so calmly, but then, she’d been through something like this with Merlin’s father. She’d been through this before, and it seemed to have made her stronger than all of them.

“I don’t want to leave him.”

“Listen to me, Arthur.” Hunith put her hands on either side of his face so he couldn’t look away from her. “I didn’t have nearly as much time with Merlin’s father as I wanted, but there was one thing I learned early on in our marriage.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t argue with your mother-in-law.” Her smile was tearful, but genuine. “Now go home for a bit. One of the others can drive you. I’ll call if anything changes, all right?”

Arthur looked back at the the door, but it remained firmly shut. “All right,” he said at last. “I won’t be long. You have my number, right?”

“Yes. Go on, then.”

He gave the door a long, last look and trudged away. Morgana drove him home, and Gwen and Lance came with them, doing the chores that had been neglected around the house since Merlin had gone to the hospital. Texts came in every so often from Leon or Gwaine to report the lack of changes.

And so Arthur spent his wedding night surrounded by friends, and yet he was still achingly alone, weeping in the shower until the water ran cold.

Then they drove him back to the hospital to wait for news of an ending.

  



	6. December

"Arthur, wake up. Come on. You've slept long enough. We’ve been waiting for you all this time."

He cracked an eye open and directed a bleary glare at Morgana. "What do you want?" he mumbled.

"And a Happy Christmas to you, too. It is ten-thirty, Arthur," Morgana ruffled his hair and yanked the covers away. “It’s past time for you to get up. We finished breakfast ages ago, but Hunith said she'd be willing to make you some pancakes if you're out there in the next few minutes."

He scowled at her and sighed. Bed was warm and lovely, but Hunith’s pancakes were not to be missed. Especially on Christmas morning. "Let me get showered, and then I'll be out, all right? ”

“Fine." Morgana said. “But if I come back in ten minutes and find that you've gone back to sleep, I'll pull the wicked half-sister routine and put tacks in the bed or something." She spun on a heel and flounced out of the room.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, rolled out of bed, and stumbled to the shower. He would have liked to have slept more. It had been a long night and a long day before that. And honestly, it had been a long damned year. But there was only so long a person could delay opening presents on Christmas morning, even if the only kids in the house were the grown-up type.

Arthur made quick work of his shower then wandered back into the bedroom to find some clothes. He grabbed his wedding band off the nightstand once he’d dressed and glanced across the room-- over the empty bed and across to where one of Merlin’s old hats was crumpled up and half-forgotten on the chair. The red and gold striped one. He hadn’t liked it much and always said it looked better on Arthur, but Arthur didn’t care for it much, either. He’d have to toss it into the laundry sometime and put it away. Or give it to charity with the other old clothes.

The scent of pancakes and coffee dragged him away from his bedroom and toward the kitchen.

“There you are,” Hunith said. “I was starting to wonder if you’d ever get up. There are fresh pancakes on the table for you, and I just put a on a new pot of coffee.”

“You’re a wonderful woman, Hunith. Have I ever told you that?” Arthur grinned and edged past her as he reached for the coffee. She had a spatula in hand, and he’d learned that it wasn’t a good idea to irritate Hunith when she had kitchen implements at the ready.

“Don’t try flattery, Arthur. Just eat. And be glad that I like you. Morgana’s been wanting to open that package from you-- the one with all the shiny paper-- all morning. I swear, that girl is half-cat. Or half-magpie, as obsessed with shiny things as she is.” Hunith shook her head and turned back to the batch of pancakes that were trying to burn on the skillet.

Arthur took his chance to escape the kitchen, settling against the wall in the living room to watch the goings-on in the living room. He had to admit that Hunith might be right about Morgana’s being half-feline, especially with as much fun as she was having teasing her new kitten with a piece of tinsel. He had to laugh at the sight of his normally elegant sister lying on her belly on the floor, trying to keep the little creature’s attention on the tinsel instead of her hair. She wasn’t having much luck.

A pair of arms wrapped around him, somehow managing not to jostle his coffee as hands slipped into his jeans’ pockets, and a body pressed up against his back. Arthur shivered as lips kissed his neck and a soft breath whispered against his ear. He smiled.

“What was that for?” he asked as he turned to wrap an arm around Merlin.

“You’re standing under mistletoe, you clot. What were you expecting?” Merlin rested his head against Arthur’s shoulder and sighed. “And don’t get your hopes up. That’s as frisky as I’m going to be for a while.” Though Merlin’s smile was tired, his eyes were bright and clear.

“I’ll live,” Arthur said. He planted a kiss on Merlin’s brow and ushered him toward the couch. From the faint trembling and underlying breathlessness, Arthur could tell that Merlin’s shallow stores of energy were running out. And they still had to open presents. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Ish,” Merlin said as he plopped onto the couch and dragged a blanket over himself. Apparently the sweater he was wearing-- Arthur’s warmest and favorite-- wasn’t enough, despite its thick, soft blue wool. “I just want to know what sort of sadist schedules a person’s last day of chemo to be on Christmas Eve,” Merlin grumbled. “I mean, really? Couldn’t they have waited for Boxing Day or something? Does Gaius like his postman more than he likes me?”

“At least you’re done with the main stuff. Just the milder meds ahead for you now. Maybe your hair will even start to grow back properly,” Arthur said as he plucked at the beanie on Merlin’s head. The dark blue one was his favorite. and it had been worn until it was nearly shapeless. “Take a quick nap, okay? I’m going to keep Morgana in suspense and go eat some of your mum’s pancakes before she kills me.”

“Morgana might kill you if you keep her waiting too long.” Merlin said. He snuggled back against the pillows, his thin fingers wrapping around the wedding band on its silver chain around his neck. He still looked terribly pale against the dark blankets, but at least the shadows under his eyes were fading.

“Between my sister and my mother-in-law, I think I fear my mother-in-law more.” Arthur grinned and leaned in to give him one last kiss before he went back to the kitchen.

Hunith was practically singing as she set the last of the pancakes on the table and poured herself some more coffee. “What are you so happy about?” Arthur asked.

She slid into the chair across from him. “It’s Christmas, and my boys are home and healthy. Well, healthier. I have my family here. What’s not to be happy about?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he said. He had to admit it. There was plenty to be happy about. It had been a long, hellish year from Merlin’s diagnosis, through all the chemo, and the disaster that September had been-- four days on a ventilator, two weeks in hospital after that, and then _finally_ going home mid-November, only to end up back in hospital again the first of December to treat a bout of dehydration. But all the scans and all the tests kept saying the same thing: Merlin’s cancer was retreating, and unless something went horribly awry with the medications, he was going to beat it. In time, Merlin was going to be all right.

Arthur couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas gift.

“Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “We’ve got plenty to be happy about.”

“Of course I’m right,” Hunith said. “I’m your mother-in-law. I’m always right. Now finish up those pancakes and let’s get those presents unwrapped. I think Morgana’s going to have a fit if she doesn’t find out what you got her soon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Arthur almost saluted her as he finished off his breakfast, dropping the dishes off in the sink before sauntering back into the living room to curl up with Merlin. “You okay?” Arthur asked when Merlin had finished fidgeting about to get comfortable again.

“Yeah, I’m good. Happy Christmas.” Merlin squeezed his hand and relaxed against him.

“Happy Christmas, love,” Arthur whispered back, realizing that it wasn’t just a trite phrase he was saying for tradition’s sake. Not this year. Not after everything they’d been through. This time, as he watched Morgana coo over the necklace he’d bought her, saw Hunith grinning like a schoolgirl as the kitten climbed into her lap to attack a wayward ribbon, and felt Merlin, warm and alive and recovering, in his arms, he couldn’t have wished for anything more.

 

 


End file.
